


To Us the Path of Knowledge

by Silvestria



Category: The London Life (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Babies, Gen, Wallflowers, Women Being Awesome, hopefully not irritating, recently married introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-17
Updated: 2016-05-17
Packaged: 2018-06-09 03:00:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6886732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silvestria/pseuds/Silvestria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Recently married Mary, Baroness Cornwallis has always been on the outside socially. A house party gives her the opportunity to observe and even speak to the ever popular Lady Viola Fitzgerald. Just what is it about her that's so special?</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Us the Path of Knowledge

_December 1806_  
  
Lady Mary Ainsley had not enjoyed her first season. At five foot nine inches, she had towered over most of her dance partners and did not have the advantages of beauty or wit to compensate for her height. Moreover, she had had the misfortune to share her debut with the likes of Lady Viola Fitzgerald and Miss Dancy. What man would prefer a tongue-tied giantess of a wallflower to the likes of them? Not even her £33,000 dowry had tempted a single offer of marriage. Indeed, she was not sure if the majority of eligeable bachelors even knew who she was. Lord Bainbridge never asked her. Lord Linley overlooked her, or rather, underlooked her. Lord Louth would not have noticed her if she had fainted clean away in front of him.  
  
Lady Mary did not dread her second season, she was far too resigned to feel anything so futile as dread, but she did not look forward to it with any pleasure. But then, a month or so into it at a private ball, she met Lord Cornwallis. He had returned to London from... wherever absentee Barons return from. He stood next to her at the side of the room, and was at least a head taller than her.  
  
“You're not dancing, Lady Mary,” said his lordship.  
  
“No,” replied Mary simply. She was watching Mr. Weatherbie and Miss Fforde dancing. Miss Fforde was so pretty. It was such a shame she did not have a large fortune...  
  
“Would you like to dance?” He held his hand out with a smile. She looked up at him. His expression was warm, if somewhat guarded.  
  
She put her hand in his. “Very much. Thank-you.”  
  
They joined the set for the next dance, only two places below where Lady Viola was dancing with Mr. Stapleton. Had not they already danced together that evening? Mary wondered. Did neither of them care about the gossip that would surround such an unequal match? After all, everyone knew what two dances with the same gentleman meant. She met Lady Viola's eye briefly and was treated to a polished and confident smile. She smiled wanly back. No, they did not care about the gossip.  
  
“Why do you keep looking at that lady?” asked Lord Cornwallis _sotto voce_ when the dance brought them close together.  
  
“Lady Viola?”  
  
“I dare say.”  
  
“Don't you know her? I thought every gentleman in London had at least danced with her, if not proposed marriage to her.”  
  
“No, and I don't think I should like to dance with her; she is too short. I should be constantly afraid of tripping over her.”  
  
Mary looked at him properly for the first time, interested in any man whose reaction to Lady Viola was to worry about accidentally standing on her, and noticed a touch of grey at his temples- he must have been approaching forty at least but there was a kind of distinction in his countenance that rendered it attractive nonetheless. It struck her that it was not often she really had to look up to somebody.  
  
By September of that year Mary found herself a Baroness. She went to live with her husband in his estate in Staffordshire and took to married life with the same calm detachment with which she faced any new experience. In a quiet way, she was happy.  
  
Then her mother, the Countess, sent her an invitation to a Christmas house party. When Mary had been unmarried they had never had parties and Mary could not decide whether this one was taking place to celebrate Mary's marriage or her leaving home. Either would be equally likely.  
  
“I don't want to go,” she said to her husband over the breakfast table.  
  
“Then we shan't go,” he replied evenly.  
  
Mary fiddled with the butter knife. “I think we had better go,” she said finally.  
  
She wondered what her parents would do with her sister at a party. Her sister who continued to laugh long after everyone else had stopped, who would stand in a doorway and simply _stare_ until everyone present was thoroughly uncomfortable. If her parents knew what was good for them, they'd confine Sarah to the schoolroom with her governess and younger sister Susan. Unfair perhaps, but society could be very cruel towards those who were different. Still, there were at least three years before Sarah would be old enough to be in society and maybe in that time she would leave her oddness behind her.  
  
The houseparty was tedious in the extreme. The Countess wanted Lord and Lady Cornwallis to be the centre of attenion, as if Mary had made a brilliant match and not just married an unfashionable, middle-aged Baron of moderate fortune and only one country estate. The couple themselves on the other hand had no interest in being the centre of attention and much preferred to leave it to those members of society better suited to the creation of flashy soundbites and intriguing gossip.  
  
Lord Linley was pining over Miss Frederica Madingley with an ardour as embarrassing as it was obvious to everyone apart from the couple in question. Neither Lord Parry nor Lord Louth was pursuing anybody, a fact that filled every single young lady present with outward sorrow and inward glee as it still gave them each a chance to imagine that they might be the one to tempt these confirmed bachelors from their lonely and loveless lives. The Duke and Duchess of Beaumont's absence was surmised to be because the lovely young Duchess was _yet again_ in an interesting condition, nobody was quite sure who Lady Tessington would take as her next lover and opinion was sharply divided on whether five month old Harry Taylor was a suitable guest at a houseparty or not.  
  
Mary was not terribly interested in any of this though she would have been inclined to come down on Harry's side in the debate if her opinion had ever been saught, which it hadn't, after she overheard disparaging remarks from Lady Surrey and the Duchess of Leicester. Both women had left their children at home and had a very low opinion of anybody who did not do the same.  
  
“For goodness sake, Augusta, I try to have a conversation with Lady Richford and all she is interested in is the baby!” complained the Viscountess.  
  
The Duchess nodded and added, “The gentlemen are just as bad. Mr. Stapleton and Lord Bainbridge won't leave it alone.”  
  
“I daresay they are just trying to impress Lady Viola.” Lady Surrey's accopanying sniff said all that was needed about this technique of courtship and the likelihood of its success with her sister-in-law and the baby's godmother.  
  
“Suffer the little children indeed!” finished the Duchess as they turned a corner.  
  
Mary slipped into the nearest room, having no desire to follow the ladies back to the drawing room. She found herself in a small, secondary “yellow” sitting room that her mother used for writing letters, which was decorated with a pattern of Chinese style birds. The room was dim for even though it was not yet four in the afternoon, it was shortest day in the year and the weather was dull and grey. The only light came from the fire which burnished the yellow covers of the chairs and the unfashionably brown complexion of Lady Viola Fitzgerald who was sitting near the fire in a blue and red striped morning dress, quietly singing a [German lullaby](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RapSALiQU8A&feature=related) to her godson who slept in her arms.  
  
“Oh!” exclaimed Mary, and she hesitated on the threshold.  
  
Lady Viola stopped singing and looked up at her and smiled. “Lady Cornwallis.” Her voice seemed lower and gentler than it usually seemed to Mary.  
  
There was a brief silence while the two women looked at each other before Lady Viola said, “I'm not sure your Ladyship has properly met Harry, have you? Come and say hello!”  
  
Mary moved forward rather awkwardly. She did not know what to do with babies. She perched on the edge of the same sofa as Lady Viola and craned her neck to look at the baby. It had a very fat, red face crowned with whisps of blond hair. Its eyes were closed and it appeared to be sleeping.  
  
Lady Viola glanced at Mary and then down at the baby. “Harry, this is Mary! Mary's Mama and Papa live in this house and so did Mary until she married.” She grinned ruefully and added, “He's asleep but I think he finds my voice soothing.”  
  
Mary leaned forward a bit and said, “Hello, Harry.” It came out more of a whisper than she had intended. She felt rather foolish, talking to a sleeping baby.  
  
Harry made a kind of snuffling noise in his sleep and Lady Viola quickly exclaimed, “See? He has heard you! Why don't you hold him for a while?”  
  
Before she could protest that she really didn't _do_ babies and that she was sure she would drop it and she had not even touched one since she was eight years old when Susan had been born, Mary suddenly found her arms filled with a large bundle of warm baby and blankets. She sat stiffly in shock and did not dare to move. Lady Viola smoothed back an invisible curl from the baby's forehead and murmured, “There!”  
  
She watched Mary in silence for a moment, looking amused. “You are allowed to relax, you know! He isn't going to do anything, and neither are you.”  
  
“Yes, yes, of course,” replied Mary. She felt embarrassed to have her awkwardness so easily perceived. She tried to force herself to be more easy. She now endeavored to make conversation with the woman she had never had much to say to, though she had thought about her a great deal over the past year.  
  
“I didn't expect to see you... here,” she finished. Maybe not such a good opening gambit. She meant that she had not expected Lady Viola to be the type to avoid a society that loved her in favour of sitting in the dark with a sleeping baby. Obviously she would never had said it.  
  
“Prissy wanted to play cards and did not want the baby; I did not want to play cards and I did want the baby. An exchange of duties seemed advantageous.”  
  
“Oh.”  
  
“Really,” continued Lady Viola, still in that soft tone but obviously warming to her theme, “there is nothing more tedious than playing card game after card game with men who fancy themselves in love with you!”  
  
“Oh?”  
  
“Oh indeed, Lady Cornwallis!” Her expression was again amused but Mary did not understand what she found funny. “I am never allowed to lose, you know. Even when my hand is perfectly atrocious, I always win.”  
  
Mary looked at her sideways and shifted the baby in her arms. “Would you prefer to lose, Lady Viola?”  
  
She put her head on one side and seemed to consider the question. Then she laughed. “No, of course not; that would be absurd. But I would, I think, like to be able to fight for my position. It would be pleasant to really feel I deserved to walk away with my spoils of battle instead of having them handed to me on a plate like the poor roast goose we will all be eating later this week. And if that meant losing once in a while then I hope I would bear it gracefully. But how tedious it all is!”  
  
Mary could not imagine Lady Viola bearing anything without grace. She also wondered at Lady Viola's perspective that was so different from her own. Mary lost at cards as often as Lady Viola won and had never had the gratification of being allowed to win by an enthusiastic lover. Cornwallis did not play and she had had no other suitor. She did not think that she would ever find admiration and flattery tedious.  
  
“What is it like, being married?” asked Lady Viola suddenly.  
  
“Being married? Oh, I don't know,” she replied, unconsciously looking down at the baby.  
  
“I'm sure you have a better idea than I do!” replied the other rather tartly.  
  
“Well, I suppose it is nice to be mistress of your own house and run it as you please, if you like that kind of thing.” As it happened, Mary didn't and fortunately her housekeeper was in complete agreement. Mrs. Jugs continued to run the household just as she had done before her master's marriage and was quick to tell the new mistress whenever she got something wrong.  
  
“And you can refuse any engagement you like.” Not that Mary did. She might not be compelled to attend events as she had been by her parents but there were other subtler compulsions that she had not been aware of as an unmarried woman: social standing, appearance, loyalty, her husband's wishes. And so she ended up accepting just as many invitations as before. A slight illness the previous morning had only delayed their journey to the houseparty. Mary had almost wished herself sufficiently ill to have prevented it altogether.  
  
“Well, I daresay it's very amusing,” replied Lady Viola indifferently, and Mary felt a flash of irritation that she should be so dismissive of a topic she had herself introduced. It quickly passed.  
  
Then the baby woke up. He did not cry but he opened his eyes, which were large and blue, scrunched up his nose, opened his mouth and yawned. Mary stared at Harry and Harry stared at Mary and she suddenly felt a surge of emotion so strong she almost cried. She could even feel the burning behind her eyes that heralded tears. She was surprised at herself.  
  
“Look, he's awake!” she tried to say, but her mouth had turned dry and it took two attempts to get the words out. Harry started to wriggle in her arms and look around him and she became aware of just how heavy he was. She became afraid she would drop him and she did not want to do that, not when she had just realised how perfect his little nose was and how adorable his mouth was when it opened just so... What was happening to her? She had thought him fat and red only five minutes ago!  
  
Lady Viola reached across and scooped him back into her own arms and Mary used her moment of inattention as she hushed the child and rocked him in her arms to discreetly wipe her eyes. She watched the other woman with interest. Harry gurgled and waved his little arms and she let him catch one of her fingers and hold on to it. Then he tried to bite it and Lady Viola laughed delightedly and exclaimed, “Don't eat me all up, darling! Isn't he clever, Mary?”  
  
It was a completely different laugh to the one she used when responding to a witty remark in company. Mary observed her curiously, her hand pressing to her breast. She wished she understood what she was feeling and why she again wanted to cry; she was not usually so emotional for no reason. She also wished she understood Lady Viola.  
  
“You are well acquainted with children,” Mary stated after a few moments' silence.  
  
“I had two younger siblings, though Andrew did not survive infancy, alas, and I now have a baby nephew and dear Harry here, so I suppose I am. You are not.”  
  
“No.”  
  
Lady Viola smiled. “You'll get used to it I expect when it's your own child.”  
  
“Maybe,” replied Mary. She had not really thought about having children, which was rather silly in a way since they were the natural consequence of marriage. It just seemed so unlikely somehow.  
  
They both looked down at Harry as if he held the answer to questions neither knew they were asking, and then the door opened. It was Harry's mother, Lady Priscilla.  
  
“There you both are!” she exclaimed, quickly crossing the room and taking her son up into her own arms. “Oh, and Lady Mary too, Lady Cornwallis I should say! How very singular to find you hiding away in here like this! Viola darling, the men are positively fighting duels over who shall be your partner in bridge. I swear Lord Bainbridge has taken the poker up against Mr. Stapleton and I am sure he would do the same if only there were two of them! And Lord Parry seems to find the whole thing a most marvellous joke but I assure you they are quite serious!”  
  
“Dear me, how thrilling!” replied Lady Viola, standing up. “But if Mr. Stapleton lacks a poker, perhaps he might take up the bellows. He is a resourceful man and I am sure he would manage to turn it into a creditable weapon if needs must.”  
  
“I am not sure,” said Lady Priscilla doubtfully, “that I can see the bellows being very effective against a poker. But you must come back to the drawing room with me! Do excuse us, Lady Cornwallis, but we simply cannot manage without Lady Viola!”  
  
What a fate! thought Mary, who had always managed very well without Lady Viola and probably would have managed a good deal better if she had not existed at all. What she said as she stood up and followed them part way to the door was, “But of course, your Ladyship.”  
  
“Say good-bye to Mary, Harry!” said Lady Viola and pointed her out to the baby. But Harry was more interested in tugging at his Mama's shawl than saying good-bye. “I'm sure I shall see your Ladyship shortly at the cardtable,” she added and the half smile she gave Mary was just a little bit wry.  
  
“I'm sure you shall.”  
  
They left the room. Mary heard their voices disappearing back down the corridor. “Viola, Lord Bainbridge is madly, passionately in love with you! You shall be a Countess by Easter- oh no, I declare I forgot! His father is Lord Foxford. Oh Viola, what a lovely Marchioness you will make!” Lady Priscilla was saying. “And I daresay by this time next year you shall have a child of your own. What a fine thing it would be if you had a daughter- she might marry Harry one day!”  
  
Lady Viola's laugh, fainter now, then, “Dear Prissy, you get ahead of yourself. Lord Bainbridge has no serious interest in me- we are old friends. Your matchmaking instincts will have to be put on hold for a little while yet!”  
  
Their voices faded away into silence. Mary sat back down on the sofa and stared into the embers of the fire. She felt very tired. She would sit still for a while and then she would find her husband.


End file.
